Losing You
by miss mcGonagle
Summary: Poppy and Pomona were best friends, but sacrificing their friendship was easier than suffering from a broken heart. PPPS, PPAM. Slight femslash.


**Oh dear, this could be the angstiest fic I've ever written. Perhaps if I blame it on Vamps, Sprinks won't hurt me for making her so miserable...or maybe not, "put the baseball bat _down_ Sprinks!"**

**If you don't like even a suggestion of femslash, don't read. Also, I would reccomend tissues. And once you've finished this, go to OSUSprink's profile and calm yourself with one of her fluffy fics. No doubt this tearjerker has inspired her to write yet another. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters mentioned below and the suggestion of the plot was given to me by Vamps at The Hideaway.**

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey and Pomona Sprout had been best friends since their first ride on the Hogwarts Express when Poppy successfully broke the nose of a second year boy who was teasing Pomona. Poppy was sorted into Gryffindor and Pomona into Hufflepuff, but the two did not let that keep them apart. Both girls had friends within their own Houses, but no other boy or girl came close to matching the strong bond that existed between Poppy and Pomona.

Pomona Sprout was short and plump with dark eyes that sparkled and gave evidence to her perpetual good humor. She wore her dark blond pulled back and there was always dirt under her fingernails from the time she spent in the greenhouses. Pomona seemed to have a special talent for Herbology and, shy as she was around most of her peers, seemed to prefer the company of plants to people.

Poppy Pomfrey stood up for her friend whenever she felt that others were taking advantage of Pomona's mild nature. Poppy was petite, but she had a fierce temper that belied her size. Pomona's mild manner kept the two out of many an altercation when Poppy would have let her temper loose. Poppy let her wild red hair flow free of any restraints except when in Potions. She adored that class and soaked up all the information about it that she could. She loved to talk about their lessons and her own ideas about the subject when she and Pomona studied in the library, earning many an indulgent chuckle from her friend.

Minerva McGonagall was a few years ahead of them and though she tended to prefer her books to human company, she would occasionally spend some time with the two friends. The younger girls liked her company and they felt it their duty to pull the studious older girl away from her work as much as they could.

As the girls grew and matured, it was Poppy who was always being asked out by the boys. Always true to her friend, however, Poppy would refuse to go out with anyone unless he had a friend for Pomona.

After graduation, Poppy began her training as a mediwitch while Pomona left for Africa to study Herbology with a group of scholars. This separation was torture for the two young women who were forced to communicate by owl post for the six months that Pomona was in Africa and then another three when she visited Nova Scotia with the same group of scholars.

When Pomona finally returned from her travels she was offered a job at a Herbology conservatory in London which she happily accepted. Poppy was still studying to be a mediwitch and had taken on an internship at St. Mungo's hospital in London and the two women were able to rent a flat together.

They shared the flat for three years, enjoying the city life and each other's company. Poppy passed her mediwitch's training with honors and received a job at St. Mungo's. Pomona took her out to celebrate and the two spent the night on the town. Two weeks later, their happy mood was altered.

A letter arrived for Pomona from Hogwarts letting her know that their former Herbology professor had decided to retire and that she had recommended Pomona as her replacement.

Pomona was thrilled by this request; the Headmaster wanted her come to the school at least a week before the start of term, only a month away. Another bit of news in the letter was that her school friend, Minerva McGonagall, was now the Transfiguration professor at the school. When Poppy returned from the hospital, Pomona showed her the letter in a rush of happiness. Poppy read the letter through quietly.

"Are you going to accept the position?" she asked Pomona softly.

"Well, of course!" said Pomona, missing the cold glint in Poppy's eyes in her excitement. "A professor at Hogwarts, that's always been a dream of mine, you know that! And to think that Professor Stonewater recommended me herself…Poppy, this is a wonderful opportunity for me."

Poppy nodded and turned away.

"I know it is, but I thought you were happy here in London with me."

Pomona recognized the hurt and anger in her friend's eyes.

"Oh, Poppy I am!" she rushed to assure her friend. "It's just that you have your work and I need a bigger challenge than what I've been doing at the conservatory."

She laid a tentative hand on Poppy's arm.

"Please, Poppy," she whispered, "I need you to be happy about this, I need your support and your blessing."

Poppy met her friend's gaze as tears slowly fell from her eyes.

"I'm sorry Mona," she told her, "I just can't imagine life without you again. I missed you terribly when you went off to Africa and Nova Scotia and now you're leaving again. Everyone always thought you were the weak one, but the truth is I'm miserable without you, _I'm_ the weak one."

Pomona stared at Poppy in shock even as she pulled her into an embrace. Poppy let herself cry into Pomona's shoulder as the other woman drew gentle circles on her back to calm her.

"I _don't_ want to leave you, Poppy," Pomona told her softly. "But this is my dream job. I wish there was some way we could both be happy, I really do."

Poppy sniffed and pulled away.

"I know you do and I really think you should take this job," she told Pomona earnestly. "You'll make a wonderful teacher, but I will miss you."

Pomona smiled sadly and wiped the tears from Poppy's face with her thumbs. Poppy froze as Pomona traced the curve of her lips with a gentle finger. Pomona pulled her hands away quickly, but Poppy grabbed them in her own and placed a kiss on both palms. Then she released them and turned away quickly. Poppy grabbed her coat and left the flat before Pomona could even call out her name.

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Nothing more was said about Pomona's new job, though Poppy did see her off at the train station. The two women exchanged a quick hug. Pomona tried to speak, but Poppy shook her head sharply.

"Please don't, Mona," she told her, "I know this is what you want. I'll write, and I'll be expecting plenty of letters from you as well."

Pomona regarded her friend with sad eyes.

"Of course I'll write you," she whispered softly, not trusting her voice, "all the time."

The train blew its final warning whistle and Pomona jumped on board. She looked back at the small figure of Poppy Pomfrey as the train carried her away. Neither woman waved, but both felt the tears sliding down their cheeks.

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True to their word, both women wrote letters to the other, notes full of work place gossip and impersonal information. Neither mentioned what had happened back in London, though both Poppy and Pomona thought about it constantly. Pomona threw herself into her new role as a professor and focused all her energy on her students. Poppy found another way to forget.

Three months after Pomona had begun teaching she received a letter from Poppy. It started out like all the others, with news from the hospital and about her neighbors at the apartment building. But Pomona had to read the middle part of the letter twice to be certain she understood what Poppy was telling her.

Do you remember Alastor Moody? He was in Gryffindor, in Minerva's year. Speaking of Min, tell her I said hello. Alastor's an auror now and he was on my floor for a bit because of a training injury. We talked forever it seems and we're going to Angelo's for dinner tonight.

I'll be working overtime until we get someone to cover for Gertie…she picked a terrible time to have a baby, what with the holidays…

Pomona had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying. She knew Poppy well enough after eleven years of friendship to know what the other woman was telling her. The kisses were a show of feelings Poppy had never meant to express and now she was starting a relationship with Alastor to cover up her mistake. Pomona was hurt, but she couldn't fault Poppy for trying to protect her own heart.

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The Christmas holiday arrived and Pomona traveled back to the London flat as she and Poppy had planned. Pomona arrived while the other woman was still at work and unpacked her bags. Everything seemed normal until Pomona realized that all the pictures of the two women that had adorned the walls had been taken down. A single picture sat in a frame on the kitchen table. It was of Poppy and a man Pomona knew must be Alastor Moody, the quiet quidditch player Pomona remembered only vaguely from her days as a student.

The couple appeared to be happy. Pomona wondered if Poppy had left the picture where she did as a pointed reminded to Pomona that she was in a relationship or if Poppy had been oblivious to the pain it might cause.

When Poppy returned to the flat she greeted Pomona with a warm embrace and a happy laugh. If she noticed that the picture had been moved, she didn't mention it.

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The two women tried to act as if nothing had changed between them, but they were very careful around one another as if afraid of what might happen if they said the wrong thing. Less than a week into Pomona's visit, Poppy invited Alastor over for dinner.

Pomona fought an internal battle throughout his entire visit. She wanted to be happy for Poppy; Alastor was a good-looking man with a promising career and a wry sense of humor. But it broke her heart to see Poppy with someone else, laughing and teasing and touching hands with Alastor when she thought Pomona couldn't see. Pomona tried to push those thoughts away, but her blood boiled with jealously when Alastor kissed Poppy goodbye.

"So what do you think of Alastor?"

Pomona glanced over at Poppy and tried to smile. The two women were sitting at the kitchen table with their wineglasses, the bottle sitting on the table between them.

"He's great," she told Poppy. But he's not right for you. She thought to herself.

Poppy nodded and looked away.

"He's not you, though," she whispered.

"Poppy…"

"When we were at school everyone thought I was the one looking out for you, keeping the bullies away," Poppy said suddenly, "but the truth is, you were the one who protected me, who looked after me and loved me. I got so used to having you there for me all the time that when I didn't have you with me whenever I needed you, I just fell apart. Alastor keeps me company, but he's not you."

Pomona was at a loss for words, but Poppy continued.

"We've grown apart and that hurts, but I think it might be for the best."

Pomona stared at Poppy as the meaning behind the other woman's words hit her. Poppy loved her, but she didn't want to. She was afraid of being hurt again and she was willing to sacrifice what was left of their friendship to avoid that heartache.

Pomona bit her lip until it bled. If Poppy wanted to end everything then she shouldn't raise pointless objections. That's what the relationship with Alastor was about; Poppy was trying to move on, to fill up all the gaps left by Pomona so that there was no more room in her life or her heart.

"I think you're right," she whispered, each word ripping a hole in her heart. "We should move on."

Poppy nodded, avoiding Pomona's eyes.

"Alastor has asked me to move in with him," she said in a falsely bright voice. "I'll cancel the lease on this place and join him in late January."

"That sounds wonderful," Pomona told her softly.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night," said Poppy, clearly anxious to leave. "Good night, Mona."

She jumped up from the table and fled the kitchen. Pomona stopped trying to hold back her tears and let them fall.

"Good night, Poppy," she whispered through her tears. "I love you."

The wineglass she clutched in her hand shattered under the pressure of her grip, the red wine spilling across the tabletop, mixing with her tears.

The End.


End file.
